


Lick It Off My Fingers, Taste It On My Tongue

by emojidun



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Tyler, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Pet Names, Rimming, Smut, Whipped Cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emojidun/pseuds/emojidun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler shivers as Josh sprays more whipped cream down his thigh, from the back of his knee to the swell of his ass. As he kisses it from his skin, he pushes Tyler's other leg to his chest, and Tyler tightens his grip on Josh's hair with a whimper, soft and slow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I've got you, baby boy," Josh whispers, rubbing his thigh soothingly. "Just relax, love."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lick It Off My Fingers, Taste It On My Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> gratuitous rimming for the tumblr anon that requested it!! i hope its exactly as filthy as you were expecting

Sitting on the living room carpet, back pressed against the bottom of the couch, Tyler swallows another mouthful of ice cream and enjoys the split second of cold that he feels before it's gone and he's back to being blisteringly, uncomfortably warm. 

 

Realistically, it has to be, like, a hundred thousand degrees, and Tyler's kinda worried he might actually start to melt soon. He's sprawled across the carpet in only a baggy shirt he thinks he may have borrowed from Josh — and a loose fitting pair of boxers he knows he must've borrowed from him — and he still feels so hot it's almost suffocating. He'd moved from the couch to the floor 'cause he thought it might've been cooler, closer to the ground — and 'cause his thighs had been starting to stick to the leather, but whatever — but it actually hadn't even helped the smallest, littlest bit. 

 

Josh is sitting across from him in only a pair of dark boxers, back against the coffee table as he empties more whipped cream into the bowl in his other hand. Tyler thinks it might've had ice cream in it at some point, but then Josh had somehow gotten his hands on a can of whipped cream, and he keeps using it to refill his bowl before continuing to eat it with a spoon. He pauses every so often to spray more whipped cream directly into his mouth, and it's a bit ridiculous, but Tyler's eating an entire carton of ice cream with something that's more of a ladle than an actual spoon, so he figures he's not really in a position to be calling anything else ridiculous. 

 

He swallows another large mouthful of ice cream, and almost shivers, but then the chill passes again and he's still unbearably warm and nearly sticky with sweat. He whines softly around his next mouthful of ice cream, and slumps closer against the bottom of the couch, trying pretend that the ground is cooler and that he can't feel where the fabric of his shirt is starting to stick with him. 

 

"This is the worst," he says, spooning — ladling — another dollop of ice cream into his mouth. "I think I'm gonna die," he says around it. 

 

"You probably won't die," Josh says reassuringly, and Tyler scoffs around his next mouthful of ice cream. 

 

"I might," he says, and Josh shrugs, leaning his head back as he sprays more whipped cream directly into his mouth. 

 

"Maybe you shouldn't've broken the air conditioner, then," he says as he swallows, and Tyler gasps. 

 

"I didn't break the air conditioner!"

 

Josh nods. "Yuh huh," he says. "You did." 

 

"Nuh uh," he protests, and Josh nods again. 

 

"Yuh huh." 

 

"Nuh uh," Tyler insists, kicking Josh in the thigh with as much force as he can bring himself to muster up. It isn't a lot, and Josh scoffs at him, reaching out again to pinch Tyler's ankle. 

 

"Yuh huh," he says. "You did." 

 

"I didn't," Tyler protests, kicking him again. " _You_ did," he says, and it's partially true. Their air conditioner had been an old, clunky piece of machinery that had come with the house when they bought it. It had to be three hundred years old, at least, and when the heat wave had started, Tyler had decided to test its limits by turning it the smallest bit past the colourful piece of electrical tape that had _not past here_ scrawled across the surface in dark marker. As it turns out, the warning had been there for a reason, and they hadn't been able to turn their air conditioner off again, or to get it to stop making the horrible, shrill sound it had started making. It was still working, though, alright? Their house had been freezing, but at least the air conditioner had been working. It was when Josh had cracked it open to try to fix it that it had just shut off, and while they had tried everything — up to and including just kicking the fucking thing — they hadn't been able to get it to turn back on. Technically, that makes it Josh's fault. 

 

Josh looks at him again, affronted. "I didn't break it!" 

 

"Yuh huh," Tyler corrects. "You did."

 

Josh narrows his eyes, and, without missing a beat, lifts his canister of whipped cream again and sprays Tyler directly in the fucking face. 

 

Tyler squeals loudly as he recoils, trying to wipe the whipped cream from his face with one hand. It's cold, but it almost immediately starts to melt against Tyler's skin, leaving him hot and even more sticky than he already had been. Josh grins impishly when Tyler glances back up at him, and Tyler cracks an innocent smile, before he reaches over with his sticky, whipped cream covered hand to push his palm against Josh's face. 

 

Josh tries to lean away from him, making a loud sound of protest, but Tyler shifts closer to him on his knees as he rubs whipped cream over Josh's face. He runs his hand through Josh's hair to get the last of it from his fingers, before he sits back on his heels to look at him appraisingly. He looks ridiculous, quite honestly, covered in whipped cream, and Tyler can't keep himself from grinning at him when Josh narrows his eyes again. 

 

"You broke the AC," Tyler tells him, and Josh barks out a laugh, before he reaches over to spray more whipped cream into Tyler's face. 

 

Tyler squeals again, trying to rub it off with the back of his hand, before, as Josh cackles, he reaches out to pluck the canister from him. He sprays some — too much — directly into Josh's hair, and, when Josh reaches out to take it back from him, into Josh's palm and up the back of his arm, to his shoulder. 

 

Josh reaches for the can again, and Tyler laughs as he tries to dodge him, but Josh is too quick and he manages to pluck it right out from between Tyler's slick, sticky fingers. 

 

He grins again, cocky, and Tyler tries to duck out of the way, but then Josh has a hand wrapped around his wrist as he sprays more whipped cream across his face, down his jaw, over his shoulder. He sprays whipped cream directly into the baggy sleeve of Tyler's shirt, and Tyler gasps, jerking his arm back before he snatches the whipped cream from Josh again and climbs into his lap. 

 

Straddling him, he sprays more whipped cream over his shoulder, across his collarbones, down his other arm. He laughs, and Josh laughs, too, before Tyler sprays more whipped cream directly into Josh's open mouth, silencing him. Tyler laughs again, before he feels one of Josh's hands curling around his hip, holding him in place as he leans up quickly to press his mouth to Tyler's. He's sticky, and he tastes like whipped cream, and Tyler can't keep himself from laughing against his lips as Josh licks into his mouth and effectively gets whipped cream all over the both of them. Josh doesn't pull away, though, even when Tyler can feel him smiling, and Tyler relaxes into him slowly as Josh kisses him. 

 

He tangles his free hand in the tacky hair at the nape of Josh's neck, gasping softly in protest when he suddenly feels the canister being wrenched from his other hand. He wants to reach for it again, but Josh is holding tighter to his hip before he can, emptying more whipped cream into Tyler's mouth before he leans up to kiss him again. 

 

Tyler tightens his grip on Josh's hair as he laughs into his mouth again, gripping his sticky shoulder with his other hand. Josh licks into his mouth again, and Tyler hums softly, sucking on the tip of Josh's tongue and pretending that his breath doesn't hitch when Josh groans softly. 

 

He squeezes Tyler's hip as he slowly pulls away again, lifting the canister to spray more whipped cream across Tyler's jaw and down the side of his throat. He licks at it as he kisses across Tyler's skin, and Tyler giggles again, faint and breathless. He tilts his head, making a soft, moaning sort of sound as he feels Josh nipping at the sensitive skin just beneath his jaw. 

 

He whimpers, and Josh slowly pushes his hand beneath the fabric of Tyler's shirt, kissing the whipped cream from his throat as he skirts his fingertips across Tyler's stomach. He brushes across the skin just above his waistband, and Tyler shivers, arching closer as Josh slowly runs his hand up, then back down his stomach. He brushes along Tyler's waistband again, then over the thin fabric of his boxers, before, through the fabric, he brushes his knuckles against Tyler's cock with the absolute lightest of touches. 

 

Tyler gasps softly, hips twitching upwards, but Josh just barely brushes against his cock again as he pulls back to spray more whipped cream across the hollow of Tyler's throat. 

 

"Josh," he breathes, as Josh slowly grazes his knuckles over his cock again, leaving purple bruises across Tyler's skin as he sucks the whipped cream from his throat. "Josh," he repeats breathily, and then Josh's hand is on his hip again, lifting him from Josh's lap and onto his back on the carpet. Josh settles between his thighs, pushing Tyler's shirt up his chest to spray a line of whipped cream from the hemline to his waistband. 

 

Tyler squirms, breath catching in his throat as Josh looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes and sucks the whipped cream from his skin. He sucks another bruise into the skin just above his waistband, before tugging at it slowly, breath ghosting over Tyler's cock as he pulls the fabric of his boxers down and off. 

 

"Keep your hips still f'me, baby boy," he whispers as Tyler squirms again, spraying another line of whipped cream along the crease of his hip. He licks it slowly from his skin, and Tyler whimpers, feeling Josh's teeth against his hipbone before he pulls away again to spray more whipped cream down Tyler's thigh. He leaves bruises in his wake as he sucks it from his skin, sucking a dark, purpling mark into the skin just above his knee. Tyler whimpers again, quickly tangling a hand in Josh's tacky, sticky hair, and Josh glances up at him from beneath his eyelashes as he slowly curls a hand around Tyler's thigh. 

 

"J," he pleads softly, needing Josh to do something, anything, and Josh slowly pushes his thigh up and against his chest. 

 

Tyler shivers as Josh sprays more whipped cream down his thigh, from the back of his knee to the swell of his ass. As he kisses it from his skin, he pushes Tyler's other leg to his chest, and Tyler tightens his grip on Josh's hair with a whimper, soft and slow. 

 

"I've got you, baby boy," Josh whispers, rubbing his thigh soothingly. "Just relax, love." 

 

He presses another to Tyler's skin, licking the last of the cream from his thigh, before he lifts the canister again to spray more whipped cream over Tyler's hole and Tyler gasps, loud and high. It's a strange sort of feeling, light and cool, but Tyler can't keep himself from trying to rock downwards before Josh puts the canister down to press a hand to his stomach, keeping him still.

 

"I've got you, love," he whispers, and presses a feather light kiss to the swell of Tyler's ass, before pressing his free hand against his skin and licking slowly over his hole. 

 

Tyler moans loudly, and holds even more tightly to Josh's hair, as his other hand scrambles for purchase over the thin, worn fabric of the carpet. His fingers come to curl around the nearest leg of the coffee table, and he holds on to it tightly, knuckles white as Josh slowly licks over him again. He flattens his tongue, licking back over him in a slow, broad stroke, and Tyler shivers helplessly despite the heat. He can feel Josh's fingers against his ass, probably gripping bruises into his skin, holding him open and exposed as he licks over his hole again. 

 

Tyler keens, tugging sharply at Josh's hair and gripping crescent shaped indents into the wooden leg of the coffee table. Josh groans, and Tyler can feel it, before he presses closer to lick back over him slowly. 

 

"J," he gasps, moaning loudly when Josh hums against him. "Josh," he pleads, wanting more, needing more, and tightening his fingers in Josh's hair as Josh slowly starts to pull away. Tyler makes an involuntary sound of protest, high and kinda broken, and holds tighter to the coffee table as he tries to push his hips down. 

 

Josh presses him harder against the carpet with one hand, as he slowly sprays more whipped cream over his hole with the other. "Hips still, baby boy," he whispers. 

 

Tyler's breath hitches, before he leans his head back and wails loudly as Josh licks over him again. He licks over him slowly, and he makes Tyler shiver, before he presses the very tip of his tongue inside him as he sucks the cream from his skin. Tyler cries out, rocking his hips down involuntarily, and then Josh is gone completely as he pulls away. 

 

"No," Tyler gasps, fingers clenching and unclenching in Josh's hair. "Josh, J, please, I'm sorry," he babbles, but Josh only shushes him, gripping Tyler's thighs with one hand. Tyler bites his tongue, before, in one, swift movement, Josh lifts Tyler up and rolls them both over so Josh is on his back and Tyler's straddling his collarbones. 

 

Tyler gasps softly, as Josh slides his hands beneath the fabric of Tyler's shirt, thumbing slowly over the sticky skin of his hips. "You wanna ride my face, baby boy?" He murmurs, and oh, God, Tyler really, really does. 

 

He nods quickly, and Josh kisses the inside of his thigh, stroking Tyler's skin as he slid his hands over his hips to grip his ass with both hands. "Come on, love," he murmurs, slowly easing Tyler closer until he's straddling his face, breath ghosting over his hole. Tyler's breath hitches again, and he slowly grips the edge of the coffee with one hand, reaching between his thighs to grip Josh's hair with the other. 

 

"Come on, love," Josh whispers again, and Tyler scratches at his scalp, rocking his hips down slowly. 

 

Josh just licks over him again, slow, teasing, and Tyler whines, rocking his hips down carefully. "Please," he breathes, and Josh hums softly, reaching up to grip Tyler's hip as he licks into him slowly. It's the ghost of a touch, barely there before it's gone, but when Tyler pushes back against him it's back, wide and warm and wet. He chokes out a cry, holding tighter to the surface of the table, and forcefully rolls his hips back into the feeling of Josh's tongue. 

 

He's tentative, almost, at first, as he rolls his hips, but it doesn't take long before his thighs are shaking and he's forcefully fucking himself back on Josh's tongue. He needs more, he needs closer, he needs deeper, and he cries out again as he rolls his hips and Josh licks further into him. 

 

"Oh," he breathes, and his voice sounds high, distant. "God, J." 

 

He can feel Josh moan more than he can actually hear it, and he cries out again as he tightens his grip on his tacky hair. He can feel a different sort of heat starting to build in the pit of his stomach, and he tries to rock his hips more quickly, pushing messily back against Josh's tongue. Josh moans again, and Tyler can feel his hand leave his hip, before, suddenly, a finger's being pushed into him next to Josh's tongue and Tyler makes a high sound that's something between a moan and a cry. 

 

"Oh," he keens, nearly doubling over, and grinds his hips back again as he slowly lifts his hand from Josh's hair to curl it around his cock. He strokes himself quickly, in time with the movement of Josh's tongue, before Josh crooks his finger against Tyler's prostate and Tyler nearly screams. He doubles over again, holding tighter to the surface of the table, and comes quickly over his fist and the fabric of his shirt. 

 

He can feel Josh moan again, and rolls his hips once, twice more, before he uses the very last of his energy to lift off of Josh and crumple to the ground next to him. 

 

He's sticky, but he's sated, and he curls up on the matted fabric of the carpet as he tries to catch his breath. He looks at Josh when he finally blinks his eyes open again, whose chest is heaving and whose right hand is only pulled halfway out of his boxers. His hair is wild, where it had dried around Tyler's fingers, and his lips are swollen and still slick with spit. He turns his head slowly, cracking a grin when he catches Tyler looking at him, and Tyler cracks a soft smile of his own as he reaches out to thumb slowly along Josh's swollen lower lip. 

 

"You broke the air conditioner," he murmurs, voice wrecked. 

 

Josh laughs loudly.

**Author's Note:**

> dont forget to come find me on [tumblr](http://fratboydun.tumblr.com)!! im always taking prompts/requests so dont be afraid to hmu


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